You've Got Mail!
by RussianWolf7
Summary: Title taken from the movie. They own it. It's a collection of emails between Hannibal and Clarice. With occasional meetings, this is a unique story. Or, at least, I hope so. More importnatly is that it's done! My very first finished story! bows
1. Email Number One

Disclaimer: I own everything. *fingers crossed behind back* Well, actually I own nothing, meaning that I own something because my fingers are crossed, but now *uncrosses fingers and puts them in plain view* they aren't so I will say it again: I own nothing. Yet.  
  
A/N: Er, well, nothing much to say. Sorry it's short.  
  
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E-mail number one:  
  
From: The Doctor [the.doctor16@rcn.com]  
  
To: [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Clarice,  
  
I know we haven't chatted in a while, but I'm afraid I have been busy. As I'm sure you know, I have been abiding by the law perfectly, so that isn't what has taken up my time. Tell me, Clarice, do you know what does? I think you do.  
  
One of the many things that keeps me up at night is quite simple, really. Well, it's a simple question, but I know the answer won't be an easy one. Have the lambs finally stopped screaming? After three years of observing you, I have finally come to a conclusion. You give the outward appearance of being completely held together. You accomplish a lot everyday and appear to be pleased with yourself. But, on the inside, I don't think that is true. I think the lambs are still screaming, but what exactly they are telling you I am unsure of, mainly because you don't know yourself.  
  
Judging from your everyday life, how you look carefully through the newspaper looking for something, or someone, I think that you might like to know how I am doing. I must say, overall I am having a wonderful time. The place where I am staying has a magnificent view of a river, so I have the view I have been wanting for the eight years I was in the dungeons. But I don't need a view. I can walk freely in the streets, as long as I have a disguise of some sort. There is only one thing that is really missing from my life, but I don't think I'll tell you quite yet. There isn't much fun in that.  
  
Well, I am afraid I must go now. I am quite hungry and would like some dinner. No, not a human. I was thinking of going to a nice Chinese place down the street. I would very much like to see you soon. Perhaps we can make a date for sometime in the near future? I think that you wouldn't tell the F.B.I. that I am close. You are doing quite well there, and information that someone might find concerning me, they would think you had withheld, which you would have. I am sure you remember what happened the last time something related to me was found in your custody, but I am quite sure that you won't tell anyone about our meeting, and I am sure you have a safe place to store this e-mail and any other correspondence we might have.  
  
Regards,  
  
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.  
  
Ps. If we do meet sometime and go somewhere fancy like I'm sure we would, I think the dress I gave you at Chesapeake might be perfect for the occasion. I always thought you looked beautiful in it. Ta ta,  
  
H 


	2. Email Number Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing. As of sometime in the preferably near future, I might. Scratch that. In the near future, I WILL!!! BWAHAHA!!!  
  
A/N: Ummm . . . hi.  
  
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E-mail number two:  
  
From: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
To: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Dr. Lecter,  
  
Hello. I must say I was surprised when I saw your e-mail. You were the last person I was expecting to hear from, although much more preferable to anyone else who e-mails me these days. And, just in case you were wondering, I have no idea what's eating up all of your spare time, which must be most of it. I'd be quite surprised if you have a job, but then again considering who I'm talking about, I guess I wouldn't be surprised at all.  
  
As for the lambs, your right. As always. No matter what I pretend to be, you always know what's actually going on. How you do this, I'm not sure, but then again, if the most brilliant psychologists can't figure you out, I can't say I'm surprised that I can't. I'm not a genius like you.  
  
You said you were observing me. If that is so, you're doing an excellent job. I had no idea until you told me, but I wouldn't, would I? I wonder if you are watching me now, while I write this. It wouldn't surprise me a bit, but I do hope you give me some privacy. Everyone, including me, needs some. But I won't do anything to deter you, such as closing shades or anything like that unless I really need to.  
  
Thank you for telling me about your life at the moment, although it's subject to change at any moment. I am glad that you are enjoying yourself and wish that I was as much as you tell me you are. I'm very happy that you finally got your view and wish that I could've provided it for you 13 years ago when you had first asked. I know you won't tell me what you are missing, but I hope that it isn't too important. If there is anything I can do to help, feel free to ask.  
  
Of course I won't tell the F.B.I. about you. You know I wouldn't. And I do indeed remember when Paul planted the letter in my basement on instruction from Mason. How could I forget? It almost got me fired after all. As for getting together, I'd love to. Name a time and a place. You know where I am and I don't know where you are.  
  
I need to go now, so we'll talk later.  
  
Good bye,  
  
Special Agent Clarice Starling  
  
Ps. I'd love to wear the dress, as well as the shoes. I'm afraid I don't know how to act properly at a very fancy restaurant; I don't even know when the last time I went to one was.  
  
By the way, I hope I don't sound to much like you. I've been listening to some tapes that Barney had given me a while ago, and after reading your e- mail I think that some of your eloquence has rubbed off on me. Ta ta,  
  
C  
  
Pps. See? I just signed it "Ta ta, C." I think I'll go do something that doesn't involve your way of life. Bye. 


	3. Email Number Three

Disclaimer: I own nothing. *bursts into hysterical sobbing* By the way, my dad came up with the title of my story . . . thought I should give him credit . . .  
  
A/N: You're either lucky or not. Since the chapters are so short I can update quickly. However, they are quite short.  
  
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E-mail number three:  
  
From: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
To: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Clarice,  
  
If you were wondering, I do indeed have a job. It is something I quite enjoy and perhaps someday I can work with you. I think you would be quite good at playing the piano. You're used to moving your fingers quickly and stretching them from all of your work with a gun. If you'd like, I could give you my lesson plan.  
  
The lambs. Clarice, I don't always know the correct answer. I have guessed many times, and about half of them have turned out to be right. I have also done wrong things and things that I regret, such as when I was little and Mischa got taken away from me. With you, I must say that there is one thing that I can't quite figure out about you which makes everything else much more difficult. If I am wrong, you can fully blame it on that missing piece of information. Someday I hope to find out what it is, but until then I need to just guess.  
  
I unfortunately did not have the pleasure of viewing you while you wrote because I was teaching then. I must say that I do often watch you, but I always give you the privacy you need. Occasionally I come into your house, usually just to say good night, but I would never disturb anything, as I'm sure you would know.  
  
Yes, my life could change at any moment, and it just has recently with our correspondence. I find myself sitting in front of my computer checking my e- mail more often than I do anything else. U can't say how happy I was when you answered. As for the missing piece, that is already starting to come back, and once it is fully here I will tell you. At the moment, you can't do anything except answer my e-mails and grace me with your occasional presence, hopefully under better circumstances that the last two times we have met.  
  
Perhaps we could get together this coming Saturday at La Maison Rouge. I find there food to be quite delicious, and it isn't to far away. If it is all right with you, I could pick you up at six?  
  
Regards,  
  
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.  
  
Ps. I greatly look forward to seeing you in that dress again and I believe that you will act perfectly at the restaurant.  
  
Not to worry, you sound nothing like me, but perhaps that is because I am me, and therefore have difficulty telling. It's rather hard to find out.  
  
Ta ta,  
  
H  
  
Pps. It doesn't matter how you sign it, Clarice. See you on Saturday. 


	4. Email Number Four

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Ish. Hehehe.  
  
A/N: Nothing much to say. Please review. Much thanks to those of you who do. Go you!  
  
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E-mail number four:  
  
From: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
To: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Dr. Lecter,  
  
I'm glad you have a job so you can have a regular income, but I don't think that you really need one. You would be an excellent piano teacher, although I'm hoping that you only teach adults; they tend to be less rude than children, if only because they know better. Well, most adults do. I honestly don't have nay idea what was going on in Paul Krendler's brain when he was alive. As for a lesson plan, I'd love to. I'm rather busy, so I don't know when will work, but I'm sure we can think of something.  
  
I guess I know that you aren't always right. To err is to be human. But you have to admit that it's easy to forget. Most of the time it seems like you're reading my mind and I'm sure that you have no idea how unnerving that can be. It's like you have a hidden camera in my head and can view anything you want whenever you want. I'm sure you can do that for everyone, but it's still rather nerve racking. I do have a difficult time believing that there's something you don't know about me, but I'm kind of relieved. It would just be too weird if you knew absolutely everything. If you ever want to, ask me what it is you don't know. Then I can finally toy with you as opposed to you keeping information from me.  
  
When I read that you came into my house, I immediately locked all the doors, windows and everything else that I own that has a lock. It did scare me a lot, but the more I think about it the more it doesn't bother me. You haven't ever hurt anything of mine, hurt me or, to my knowledge, done anything that say good night and I guess there isn't any harm in that. I wish that you had told me because it does feel like an invasion of my privacy. In the future, I guess I don't mind if you come over, just ask first and let me know.  
  
My life has changed quite a bit with our e-mails, but not as much as I might have thought. I guess that after the night as Chesapeake, I knew you would eventually contact me by one means or another, so I'm glad that you finally did. It was like letting out a breath that I had been holding for three years. I also had forgotten what it was like to feel superior to my superiors, and I quite like the feeling. I need to keep more secrets from them. I hope that the missing piece comes back soon, if only so you will tell me.  
  
Saturday is fine, as is six. I'm nervous about going to someplace that fancy, but with you there with me, I'll just do what you do. Within reason, that it. If you use me in this way, you know the ways I can get back at you.  
  
Good bye,  
  
Special Agent Clarice Starling  
  
Ps. If you tell me too much to wear that dress, I purposely won't, just to bug you, nevermind about you hating the rude. I know you'd never hurt me. You made that clear when you saved my life.  
  
I'm glad you don't think that I sound like you, but I'm not convinced. I sound much more like myself in this e-mail, but in the other one I still think I sound like you.  
  
Bye,  
  
CS  
  
Pps. See you then. 


	5. Email Number Five

Disclaimer: I own nothing. That you know of. Hehehe.  
  
A/N: Well, I saw the movie You've Got Mail! last night and I love it. I am proud that my story is its' namesake and I highly suggest that you see it.  
  
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E-mail number five:  
  
From: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
To: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Clarice,  
  
I am sorry that I haven't written in a while, but my lessons have kept quite busy. You are correct that I don't need the money, but it is quite fun to teach. It makes me feel more like a part of the world, like coming out of retirement. Actually, I only teach children. They might be a little ruder, but not by much. If so, it's only ever by accident. Their eagerness is really quite nice, no matter how good they are. Paul Krendler was the exception to all exceptions. He must've been the rudest person I have ever known and that is indeed saying something. I must say, despite that, he made an excellent dinner on my flight. If I remember correctly, which I'm sure I do, he enjoyed it himself, didn't he? And as for your lessons, why don't we talk about it on Saturday? It will be much easier to find a suitable date.  
  
I realize that I give the impression of being able to know everything, but that isn't true. I know that if I keep making these two references, you will think that those are only times when I am in the dark, so to speak, but they are the most important. I still don't know what happened to Mischa, despite the teeth in the pit, and I still don't know that bit of information about you. If you don't mind, I would again rather talk about it during dinner. After all, it's better to have extra things to talk about as opposed to not enough.  
  
I can't say your reaction surprised me, but you do know that that wouldn't stop me if I were to come in again. In the future, however, I would be glad to ask, and since we are quickly becoming friends, I see no reason that you won't ever let me in. Of course there is the slight problem that you work for the F.B.I., but I'm sure that we can get around that, at least some of the time.  
  
Very noble reasons you have, don't you? Always caring about other people and never yourself. But don't worry, everyone does that sometimes. In fact, I probably do far more than is good for me. I must say that I also knew that we would see each other again after Chesapeake. How could we not, when I had to go so quickly and leave several things hanging. I am glad that you enjoy pretending to not know anything about me at work, but I must impress on you to not withhold any more information that necessary to the F.B.I.. If they find out, you will definitely get fired and that really wouldn't help anything, now would it?  
  
Of course I would never use you and I know perfectly well that you have many things that you can use against me. I am on the Top Ten Most Wanted list and you are and F.B.I. agent. The possibilities are virtually endless. I know I've said this before, but I know you will act perfectly. I will see you on Saturday then.  
  
Regards,  
  
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.  
  
Ps. No matter how close we become, I don't take kindly to threats. You know I could never hurt you, but please do not test me.  
  
As I said before, you sound nothing like me. Don't worry about it.  
  
Ta ta,  
  
H 


	6. Email Number Six

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the Hannibal characters or the title. *starts sobbing*  
  
A/N: This goes for all my stories: If I update less than usual, it's because I just started school and have lots of homework and various after school thingies.  
  
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E-mail number six:  
  
From: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
To: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Dr. Lecter,  
  
I really don't care how long it takes you to write back to me, as long as you do. I'm glad that you have something to do so you don't just sit around the house all day waiting for something to happen, like I do. Actually, I really don't because of work, but it feels like it. I'm also glad that you found something that makes you feel like you have come out of retirement, so hopefully you won't. You're teaching children under the saying the innocence of children? It sometimes is true, but not usually. By the way, I found a loop hole in your reasoning. If Krendler was the exception to exceptions, then he was normal, which he certainly wasn't. Or, perhaps, he was, and we are the only two sane people left. Rather, I'm the only sane person. And finding a date tonight for piano is fine.  
  
Actually, it does seem as if those are the only times you don't know something. Again, talking about whatever you don't know about me at dinner is fine, but you are making me feel quite awkward because I have no idea what you're talking about. Also, I find it slightly difficult that there is only one thing you don't know about me. For example, what is my favourite colour?  
  
I know it wouldn't stop you. I'm sure, if I wanted to, I could find a way to keep you out of my house, a last resort being the F.B.I.. But you know I wouldn't do that. And I will indeed let you in, although we do have to work around the matter of the F.B.I., but I don't think that will be too difficult. It isn't like they're always watching me.  
  
Are you calling me ignoble? Tsk, tsk, how rude. And I am fully aware that you are sometimes full of yourself. Who isn't? You did indeed leave several things hanging, such as a certain kiss? I won't keep any more information than necessary from them, you know I wouldn't. Apart from you, I wouldn't do anything to sacrifice my job. If I thought that you were going to come out of retirement, I might be forced to take further actions, but at the moment, you haven't done anything outside of the law, and therefore are a perfectly decent man. Unless, of course, I start thinking about Chesapeake, and everything else before we have just recently started corresponding again, in which case I tend to get nervous about what exactly I'm doing, but Me giving information about you to the F.B.I. isn't very likely.  
  
I know you wouldn't. See you tonight.  
  
Good bye,  
  
Special Agent Clarice Starling  
  
Ps. I'm very sorry, apparently I pushed a button of yours and will not do so again.  
  
I won't. Maybe.  
  
Bye,  
  
CS 


	7. Email Number Seven

Disclaimer: I don't own any Hannibal characters or anything that you might use to sue me with.  
  
A/N: I know this chapter is short, but another one will be coming up in a couple of hours . . .  
  
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E-mail number seven:  
  
From: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
To: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Clarice,  
  
I shouldn't be answering this because I have to go and I don't want to be late to see you, but I just wanted to let you know: your favourite colour is midnight blue. Ta ta,  
  
H 


	8. Email Number Eight and a Flashback

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Literally. Much thanks to Holly and Kate and Red IV for help with idea's for formatting.  
  
A/N: I know the last chapter was short, but this one isn't! I hope you enjoy! And don't worry, this isn't the end! If, that is, you were worried about that. I'm not sure how much longer this is going to be, but expect lots of e-mails from Hannibal and maybe not as many from Clarice. I'm sure you'll understand once you read the story.  
  
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Dear Dr. Lecter,  
  
I know that you enjoy your "petty torments", but I certainly don't. You asked me out on a date, set a time and a place that I agreed to, and then made me find you? By using a cell phone? And then you wouldn't let me do anything to you. You talk about how you hate rude people and I wonder how you tolerate yourself. You are undoubtably the most arrogant person I have ever known, and I wish that I didn't. So, Doctor Lecter, good bye.  
  
Clarice Starling, F.B.I.  
  
Ps. If you try to contact me again, I will involve the F.B.I.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Flashback*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Clarice walked into La Maison Rouge wondering what to do. She didn't have to wait long, however. A waiter dressed in a black suit came up to her almost instantly.  
  
"Would you like any help, ma'am?" he asked in a French accent. Clarice wondered if the manager of the restaurant required all the waiters to be French.  
  
"Yes, please. I have reservations under the name of Arthur Sauroff. I think he's already here," she said, remembering the phone call just before she left, telling her what to say.  
  
"Let me go check," he said and walked over to a booth. He looked at a large black book edged in gold with spidery handwriting on it. "No, he's not here yet. Would you like me to seat you now or would you prefer to wait?"  
  
"No, now's fine," Clarice said slightly worried. The doctor said that he'd be there early so she could follow his lead. Apparently he wasn't and that bothered her.  
  
"Right this way, Madame," he said and led her to a table in a corner. She was grateful for this because it meant that no one would be looking at her.  
  
"Thank you. When Arthur comes, could you tell him that I'm already here?" she asked.  
  
"Of course. If there anything else you want? Some water, perhaps?"  
  
"No, thank you," Clarice said. The waiter bowed and left, leaving Clarice to worry about Dr. Lecter. She sat fidgeting for a few minutes until she felt a vibration coming from her lap. She quickly opened her purse and took out her cell phone, thinking that if whoever was on the other line didn't have a good reason to be, she would kill them. She put the small speaker in her ear and pushed the talk button. "Hello?"  
  
"Good evening, Clarice," a metallic voice said, clearly identifiable as the doctor.  
  
"Where are you?" she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.  
  
"Right here, of course. I would never be late," he said.  
  
"Dr. Lecter, don't play games with me," said Clarice, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of her voice.  
  
"But it's so much fun, Clarice. Don't you think so?"  
  
"No, I certainly don't. Please, just tell me where you are."  
  
"You should be able to see me."  
  
"Well, I can't."  
  
"Look harder. I'm right here."  
  
"Doctor, if you don't tell me where you are soon, I'm going to leave."  
  
"Clarice, I told you not to threaten me," his voice hardened and Clarice smiled. She finally found something she could do that will bother him as much as he's bothering her.  
  
"And what will you do to me?"  
  
"Don't toy with me."  
  
"After everything you've done to me, and are doing to me now, how can you say that?"  
  
"Because it's what I do." Clarice took the phone out of her ear and stared at it, disgusted. She pushed the button to hang up, probably harder than she could've and stood up. She walked as normally as she could until she got outside and then ran to her car, shoving the phone back into her purse. She couldn't believe how arrogant he was being! If he had expected her to put up with that, he was quite mistaken. She had let him before, for god knows what reason, but this was just too much. She opened the door of her car, sat down heavily, and slammed the door. She stared at the steering wheel and would've driven home, but her vision was clouding with unshed tears. Clarice couldn't believe it. After what he had done to her, how could she be so upset? She looked back at the doors of the restaurant and saw a dark shape walking out that she could instantly tell was him. She sat there for a few minutes until he was about ten yards away from her car and finally got it together again. She started the car and drove off, not bothering to look back.  
  
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	9. Email Number Nine

Disclaimer: I own nothing. *muffled creams are heard from the background* One moment please . . . *goes off and a large thunk is heard. screams stop* Ok then . . .  
  
A/N: Wow! I have 30 reviews! So much thanks to all of you who have taken time out of your busy lives to review! You make me feel so special! *hugs self*  
  
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E-mail number eight:  
  
From: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
To: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net0  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Clarice,  
  
I am very sorry about what happened on Sunday and I hope that you will forgive me enough so we can still be friends.  
  
I know that we were going to talk about getting piano lessons set up for you, but, as you know, we didn't get around to it. So, how about Saturdays at three? I can give you directions to my house later, somewhere more private.  
  
We were also going to talk about that one annoying little tiny detail that I don't know about you. I would much prefer not to put this into an email, but I really think I should tell you. How exactly do you feel about me? Am I still just someone you can learn from, your have we become friends? Ignoring last night because I know I pushed you too far and I will not do so again. Just please, Clarice, answer my question honestly.  
  
Regards,  
  
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.  
  
Ps. If you do try to involve to F.B.I. or police, or any such matter of authority, you'll be fired for holding back information about me. Do what you like, Special Agent Starling, but I do think that your job matters to you, despite the fact that you have different views from them. Ta ta,  
  
-H 


	10. Email Number Ten

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
A/N: Lalalalalala  
  
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Dear Dr Lecter,  
  
I know that you're sorry. You're so polite, you always say so, regardless of whether you actually are, but I do think that you are this time, although it might just be because I'm naive.  
  
Piano lessons. After what happened, you're still talking about piano lessons? I can't believe it. However, Saturdays would be good, as is three, but the problem is I highly doubt I'll have any time to practice. I'll try, but it probably won't work.  
  
How do I feel about you? Well, I am always eager for to learn, and I can't help learning from you, but, at least when I'm not really angry at you, I do regard you as a friend. Why are you asking, though? How do you think of me? Actually, your exact words were How exactly do you feel about me? So, how exactly do you feel about me? And no games, Doctor. I'm serious.  
  
Good Bye,  
  
Special Agent Clarice Starling  
  
Ps. Don't worry, I won't involve anyone else. I was really upset when I wrote that and now I've calmed down. And I'm not stupid. I know I'd loose my job. 


	11. Email Number Eleven

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Hannibal is not tied in my room.  
  
A/N: Wowsies! I've been updating a lot! You should all be proud of me!  
  
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E-mail number eleven:  
  
To: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
From: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Clarice,  
  
I wish you wouldn't use my politeness against me. It is a valuable skill in life, one which many people still need to perfect, including yourself. And I would never lie to you, Clarice. You should know that.  
  
I shall see you on Saturday then. I know you don't have directions to my house, but I will tell you, but not here. Perhaps over the phone? I know you are very busy and might not have time to practice, but that is quite alright. My the way, my name is the one we were using at the restaurant, Arthur Sauroff. I highly doubt that you would forget that night, but it never hurts to remind people.  
  
I am very glad that we are friends; it's been something that I've been trying to accomplish since we first met. I know that you still learn from me, after all, how could you not? Clarice, do you really expect me to not play anymore games with you? I know you don't enjoy them, but I find them quite amusing, as I'm sure you know when I came halfway around the world to watch you run. So, I think that for now all I will tell you is that I quite enjoy our friendship, even if it is somewhat fragile. I fully expect it to strengthen over time and greatly look forward to when it does.  
  
Regards,  
  
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.  
  
Ps. We were both upset that night, even if you weren't around to see it. And I know you aren't stupid, Special Agent Starling. If you were, you wouldn't intrigue me nearly as much. 


	12. Email Number Twelve

Disclaimer: I own nothing. *muffled screams* SHUT UP!!! *muffled screams. nicky throws a crowbar into the other room. a thunk is heard. then nothing* Moving on . . .  
  
A/N: I feel so special! Tons of reviews and tons of chapters!  
  
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E-mail number twelve:  
  
To: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
From: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Dr. Lecter,  
  
I know that being polite is good, but there is such a thing as overdoing it, like killing the rude. I think that's a tad overkill, no pun intended. I also know that I might not be the politest person in the world, but only one person can hold that position. You actually did lie to me. You said you wouldn't use me and you did, and this makes two. I suggest you stop before your perfect record becomes smudged even more.  
  
As much as I really don't want to, I know that phones might be the safest way for you to tell me where you live. We will both know instantly if they're being tapped, where as in emails and regular letters, it's to easy for somebody to find out what's been happening without our knowing it. I expect you to call at two thirty on Saturday. And you are quite right in saying that I do remember that night. Very important, that was.  
  
Tsk, tsk. You are being arrogant again, Doctor Lecter. I highly suggest you stop that too; perhaps we might become closer, since you seem so concerned about that. And the games are not fun for me. If you insist on playing them, then I just won't respond to that one part. This time, however, I will give you one more chance. I'm also sure that our friendship will get stronger and I suppose that I look forward to when it does, but keep in mind, the stronger it is, the easier it is for someone to find out. I do also really want to know what you aren't telling me. It's incredibly annoying, although I suppose that if I want the games to stop, I should stop saying that they bother me. Of course, you being who you are, it wouldn't matter if I tell you because you'd know anyways.  
  
Good Bye,  
  
Special Agent Clarice Starling  
  
Ps. Of course you know that I'm not stupid. I wasn't asking if you did. Intrigue. That word is so professional. If I intend to keep you as my friend, when I'm with you, talking to you or writing to you, I need to pretend I don't have a professional life. Therefore, I'd rather you just say that you are attracted to me, both of us knowing what that means and what it doesn't. 


	13. Email Number Thirteen

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Lalalalalala!  
  
A/N: If anyone knows how to play Magic the Gathering the card game, let me know!  
  
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E-mail number thirteen:  
  
To: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
From: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Clarice,  
  
Clarice, I don't know whether this is because you are either the only one smart enough to notice or if you are the only one brave enough to comment on it, but you always seem to point out my flaws. Of course I have lied in the past and I'm sure I will in the future. It is merely an annoyance which doesn't come up much. Paul Krendler was the last person I have killed, and while we remain friends, I won't kill anyone else. I know you told me that you wouldn't tell me to stop, but that was under abnormal circumstances, so I choose to do what I think you would really want me to.  
  
I would be glad to call you at two thirty, which is in about ten minutes, so I should really finish up this email quickly. I promise that I won't use you this time or play any games about directions. About other things, I can't promise.  
  
Clarice, I've given up so much for you, even if you haven't asked for them, but this is something that I don't think I can stop. It is a habit I have had for many many years and I don't think I can break it. For instance, if you got fired from the F.B.I., every time you would think you were in danger, you'd impulsively reach for your gun. You reach for the gun, I speak in riddles. It's a part of me, and if you don't like it, them I am afraid we have come to a rather large standstill. I am aware of the fact that the closer we are, the more natural it is for us to be friends, it will be much easier for one of us to slip. However, this is something that I am really not very concerned with. I don't have anyone who I would even consider telling anything about myself to, aside from you, and you are an extremely intelligent person. I really think it will be alright.  
  
Regards,  
  
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.  
  
Ps. Do we really both know what it means? I know one of us does, it's the other I am concerned about.  
  
By the way, feel free to call me Hannibal in our letters. 


	14. A Phone Conversation

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Yay! *sob*  
  
A/N: I know it isn't an e-mail, but it also isn't a normal story format. It should be easy enough to follow. Supplied with an evil cliffhanger (ish), this should be quite interesting. Enjoy!  
  
And for the quite dim among you, it's a conversation on cell phones, much like the one it my second favourite scene it Hannibal.  
  
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"Hello, Clarice."  
  
"Good afternoon, Mr Sauroff."  
  
"Until we get there, you may use my real name."  
  
"Very well, Doctor Lecter. How do I get your house? And remember, you promised not to play any games."  
  
"All I said was that I wouldn't play games with the directions. The rest I specifically said that I couldn't promise anything."  
  
"Fine. Just tell me how to get there."  
  
"Take a left out of your driveway and go down until you see Farley Street. Turn there."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"You won't come to it for a while."  
  
"No, doctor. Which way do I turn?"  
  
"Right. And what I said about the emails applies to now as well."  
  
"Which?"  
  
"You may call me Hannibal."  
  
"I don't know if I can get into the habit, doctor. I'd prefer not to change."  
  
"Your choice, but I think that it is a loss on your part."  
  
"I'm on Farley. Where do I go now?"  
  
"Three streets down, Pleasant Street. On your left."  
  
"Thank you. By the way, if someone starts to tap our conversation, I'm getting a call from my mother and I have to go right away. You are Ardelia. Don't say anything."  
  
"Taking matters into your own hands for once. Preparing for the worst?"  
  
"The worst could very well happen. What do I do now?"  
  
"Drive until you get onto Main Street and then turn right onto it. Keep on going for about three miles."  
  
"Doctor."  
  
"What is it, Clarice?"  
  
"If I had just driven down my street, I would've gotten to Main Street m uch more easily and saved a lot of time and gas."  
  
"I know. I'm taking you on a longer way, so if anyone if following you, it will be harder for them."  
  
"It won't be, and you know it. You're still playing your games, and costing me gas money. If you don't tell me the shortest, fastest way to your house, I'm turning back."  
  
"If you insist. Take a left onto Appleton Street."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Now."  
  
"You aren't following me, are you?"  
  
"Of course not. I Just know how long it will take you to get there. I was right, wasn't I?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then why does it matter if I'm following you or not?"  
  
"Because the silver Honda Civic that's behind me has been there almost the entire way."  
  
"Well then, perhaps you need to go on a long cut. Turn onto the alley that you'll see in a minute."  
  
"Where will it take me?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. Just turn."  
  
"Now what? If I stay on this road to long, my tires will blow."  
  
"The Honda's will first."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Because last night I put special tires on your car because I thought something like this will happen. Your car will handle fine."  
  
"I really wish you'd tell me when you're dropping in for a visit."  
  
"I wasn't going to see you, Clarice. I was helping you."  
  
"Well, thank you for that help."  
  
"Not at all. Have the Honda's tires blown yet?"  
  
"No. Wait, yes. Just now."  
  
"Good. Drive to the end of the alley. You'll come out on Newbury Street. Take a right and drive until you see Homer Road. It won't be for a while; you had to go the long way. As soon as you're on Homer, which will be on your right, I'm number sixteen  
  
"Your email address."  
  
"Of course."  
  
*Click*  
  
"I'm really sorry, Ardelia. My mom is calling me on my other phone. I have to go now. Bye." 


	15. Email Number Fourteen: The Last Email

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
A/N: Should this bet he last chapter? Tell me what you think!  
  
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Dear Doctor Lecter,  
  
Well, that didn't turn out all too well now did it? The part that most concerns me is that someone is following me and tapping into my phone conversations. It is quite likely that they would be able to see my e-mails as well, so this should probably be out last one.  
  
I think that I am the only one who knows you well enough to see past the shell you've put up around yourself. After all, I do talk to you and we are friends, so there is obviously something about either me or you that is special when we're together. And of course I know that you've lied, its just seems so against your character that it's hard for me to believe. I know you're promised not to kill anyone else, and I believe you. It has taken a while, but I think that I can trust you. And thank you for ignoring what I said that night because it definately has changed. Those were tense circumstances, and I hated you. Now, you're one of my closest friends.  
  
Fine. Continue playing your games, but don't be surprised if I make some of my own. Also don't be surprised if that little piece of information you want so much stays hidden. True, I don't know what it is, which will make matters more difficult for me, so perhaps I won't tell you anything new about myself to you. I know that will make you upset, but that's the price you get.  
  
I don't know if you can ever get me to stop worrying about us getting caught, especially with what just happened. Being from the F.B.I., I know how good they are at tracking people and finding things out that we would prefer they didn't find out. Like I said before, I really think that this should be out last e-mail.  
  
Good Bye,  
  
Clarice Starling, F.B.I.  
  
Ps. What are you talking about? If you are even thinking of implying what I think you are, then that's all the more reason to stop our e-mails before one of us gets heartbroken.  
  
Good bye, Hannibal. 


	16. Email Number Fifteen: Or not

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing.  
  
*starts sobbing*  
  
Hannibal: There, there. It's ok.  
  
Thank you. *cries into Hannibal*  
  
Hannibal: You really need to put this chapter up before you go to school . . .  
  
I know. *stops crying*  
  
A/N: Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers, I have decided that I need to wrap this story up neatly. However, should this be the last chapter? You decided. Again.  
  
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E-mail number fifteen:  
  
From: The Doctor [thedoctor16@rcn.com]  
  
To: Clarice [cstarling79@usa.net]  
  
Cc:  
  
Subject: RE: Hello Clarice  
  
Dear Clarice,  
  
Even though I will miss our conversations very much, I do agree with you. I just wrap up my life with you first.  
  
Yes, you are he only one who has managed to see inside me, perhaps because of chance, or maybe you were the only one who wanted to. When I saw you, I knew that here was something special about you so I let you in, one game at a time. I am very glad that you can trust me now because it makes my life so much easier. Yours too, I imagine. And I really wish you hadn't told me that I was one of your closest friends because I know what that means coming from you. You have an assortment of in-work-only friends, but as for actual friend-friends, I believe that you only have Agent Mapp and, now that you have told me that, me. It makes stopping all forms of communication with you extremely difficult, but I know that we do have to.  
  
Clarice, I wouldn't be surprised at all if you started playing games with me. As it is, you won't have much time though, because we are stopping writing. Not to worry, though, I will tell you what I want from you later and then you can tell me everything but that.  
  
I know I can't, made obvious by the fact that we're stopping talking and e- mailing. I also know that you didn't want me to respond to your e-mail, but I really had to. You'll see why in a minute.  
  
Regards,  
  
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.  
  
Ps. I love you. 


	17. A Note, a Phone Conversation and a Cabin

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sorry to disappoint you and all, but it isn't all that likely that Thomas Harris would be on this sight in the first place, but if you by any chance happen to be him, click the button in the lower left hand corner and review!!! Even if you aren't him, still review, but especially if you are him.  
  
A/N: Nothing much to say. Much thanks to SlowChemical77 for help with the ideas.  
  
And I know this format isn't as creative as most of them are, but they need to meet sometime and this is much more interesting than what I had in mind, since SlowChemical77 gave me the idea for it.  
  
And warning about an evil cliff hanger.  
  
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Clarice woke up and rolled over to see what time it was. Instead of seeing the clock, her cell phone was sitting in front of it, making it impossible for her to see what time it was. She looked at it puzzled, wondering if cell phones got up in the middle of the night to walk around, and decided that she had just forgot that she had put it there last night. She reached over to move it, but on top of it was a piece of paper that she was positive she hadn't put there. Clarice picked it up and read it.  
  
Clarice  
  
I know you said that we should stop communication, but I think that we really need to talk. Be ready to leave at ten a.m. with your cell phone turned on.  
  
-H  
  
Clarice stared at the letter. She had told the doctor that they couldn't write anymore and he ignored her, still sending her an email. After what had happened last time with cell phones, he still expected her to go along with his plan. Even more crazily, she was going to. Clarice glanced at the clock and realized with a start that it was nine fifty. She jumped out of bed and into the shower, not bothering to wait for the warm water to come on and got rewarded with being submerged in probably the coldest water that she had been in in years. Clarice quickly slathered herself with soap and washed it off, wishing she had enough time to shampoo her hair, and quickly got out and dried herself, throwing the towel on the floor. She went back into her bedroom and glanced at the clock. Nine fifty five. She ran over to her dresser and quickly threw on her underwear, not bothering to see that it was inside out. Clarice cursed, pulled it off and then back on the right way. She opened her shirt drawer and sighed happily that she had just done the laundry so that she could wear whatever she wanted. She pulled out a dark blue turtle neck and pulled it on, slammed that drawer closed and opened her pants. Not having much of a choice there, she grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on. Clarice looked on top of her dresser to see if she had anything that could make her hair remotely interesting, and decided that she didn't, but she pulled it back with a large dark blue clip. She walked over to her mirror and surveyed herself. She smiled and decided that she looked reasonable. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was nine fifty nine. She ran over to her cell phone and turned it on. She sat down and watched the seconds on her clock go by. At exactly ten o'clock, the phone rang. She took a deep breath and answered it.  
  
"Hello Clarice."  
  
"Good morning, Doctor Lecter."  
  
"Please, Clarice, call me by my first name."  
  
"Why."  
  
"Because I asked you to and it's only polite."  
  
"If you insist, I will, but it will be a difficult habit to break."  
  
"Thanks ok. Before I give you directions, I am sorry that you only had ten minutes to get ready. I considered waking you up, but decided that you would be much happier if I didn't."  
  
"Thank you, but you could've set my alarm for nine or something."  
  
"I didn't know how your alarm clock worked."  
  
"Don't lie to me, doctor. You know I can tell when you do. For whatever reason you didn't want me to wake up, that is, I suppose, your business."  
  
"Yes, it is. And don't worry about being followed this time."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You'll see when you go outside. And take a jacket with you; it's cold."  
  
Clarice grabbed her jacket and walked out the door, wondering what could possibly keep someone from following her. She gasped. In her driveway instead of her old mustang, there was a brand new black jaguar convertible.  
  
"You didn't have to do that, you know."  
  
"Of course I know. Now get in and go onto Rout 67."  
  
"Where are you taking me?"  
  
"You'll see. And don't worry about getting lost, either. I'm right behind you."  
  
Clarice turned around in her seat, trying to see where the doctor might be. She didn't see any cars that weren't normally there. This meant several things. Either his car had been there for the past six months or so, he was planning to steal someone else's car or he was going to meet up with her later.  
  
"You won't see me yet. As soon as we're on the highway, I think you'll figure out which car I'm in, although it hardly makes a difference."  
  
"Actually it does. As long as I know which car is yours, I'll know if someone else is following us."  
  
"They won't. I took care of him earlier today."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"Nothing that concerns you."  
  
"Doctor . . ."  
  
"It's Hannibal, and you really don't need to know."  
  
"You promised me that you wouldn't eat anyone."  
  
"And I didn't, although he looked quite delicious."  
  
"What exist am I going to take?"  
  
"I'll tell you when we get nearer. It isn't actually an exist, more of a side road. A side road with no sign, so I can't tell you what number it is."  
  
"Then how much longer will it be before I get there?"  
  
"Turn."  
  
"How long will this road go on for? I can hardly see because of all the trees."  
  
"A bit longer. Don't worry, though. The road is straight and I cleared most of the large branched for you last night."  
  
"Thank you very much."  
  
"Not at all. By the way, do you like the car?"  
  
"Yes, very much. Thanks for letting me borrow it."  
  
"It's yours."  
  
"What? You can't go around buying people Jaguars!"  
  
"Apparently you can because I did."  
  
"You're amazing."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Anytime."  
  
"All of the registration papers are in the glove compartment, but I don't think you'll need them. I got it in your name, telling them that it was a birthday present for my sister."  
  
"Thank you. And don't say anytime because I really don't need a ton of Jaguars."  
  
"I know. We're almost there."  
  
"Good. This isn't ideal driving conditions."  
  
"I know. And here we are. Park anywhere."  
  
Clarice drove into a little grove. In the middle was a log cabin that looked like it could've come out of a movie set. It was square, built entirely out of logs and a small line of smoke was coming out of the chimney.  
  
"You shouldn't have left the fireplace going."  
  
"I know, but the looks of it are so picturesque and I thought that you would appreciate coming to a warm house."  
  
"Very much. We don't really need cell phones now, do we?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then I'm going to hang up because I really need to save the batteries."  
  
"Of course, Clarice. Good bye."  
  
"Good bye."  
  
"Hello, Clarice." 


	18. Heartbreakers

Disclaimer: I own nothing. *is sobbing hysterically*  
  
A/N: Wow! I didn't have any help with this chapter! I feel so special! *hugs self* Of course, the format is normal, but oh well.  
  
Don't really know why I'm telling you this, but this is the second to last chapter. I know what's going to happen.  
  
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Doctor Lecter opened the door for Clarice and offered her his hand. She took it and stepped out of the car.  
  
"Thank you," she said.  
  
"Of course. Care to come inside? It's much warmer." The doctor's metallic voice sent shivers running down her spine, but she ignored them the best she could.  
  
"That's why I came, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Doctor Lecter said, smiling. He lead Clarice to the door, quickly unlocked it and showed her inside. "I hope you like it," he said, asking for her approval.  
  
"I love it," Clarice answered looking around. Almost everything was made from mahogany and most of the colours in the room were dark blues, purples, greens and the occasional pink, colours that belong in a cabin like this one. Doctor Lecter smiled again.  
  
"I'm glad. Please, sit," he said, ushering Clarice over to a dark green couch. She sat down in one corner and sighed contentedly at its softness. "Do you want anything to eat or drink? I know you haven't had breakfast yet."  
  
"Some toast and a cup of milk coffee would be wonderful," Clarice replied. Doctor Lecter, no, Hannibal, left the living room into what she assumed was the kitchen.  
  
"Do you want any help?" she called to him.  
  
"No. Just relax, Clarice. You're my guest and I want you to enjoy your stay here as much as possible," the doctor, Hannibal, called back.  
  
"Ok," Clarice said and tried to do as he said but found herself restless as she was not sued to have somebody do something for her. Eventually, Hannibal returned carrying two cups of coffee, one considerably darker than the other and a plate with two jellied sliced of toast.  
  
"Thank you," Clarice said and took her food and drink.  
  
"Not at all," Hannibal replied. They sat together eating and drinking in a comfortable silence, looking their food. After Clarice had finished her food, she looked into her cup of coffee, about half full, and watched its swirling colours. "I also find coffee quite fascinating, especially when I'm trying to not look at something else," Hannibal said. Clarice blushed and looked up at the doctor.  
  
"I was not trying not to look somewhere else," Clarice lied. It was pointless because they both knew the truth.  
  
"Please don't lie. If you had been looking up at me instead of your coffee, you would've noticed that i was doing the same thing," Hannibal said smiling.  
  
"Well then, I guess we're even," Clarice smiled.  
  
"Oh, no. You know what I want from you, you know the same piece of information from me, but I don't know it from you," he said, the smile still on his slips, but slightly artificial.  
  
"Right. I had forgotten that."  
  
"Well?" Hannibal said, the smile now back, but not like it was before. This time it was hopeful, for once showing his true feelings.  
  
"Well what?" Clarice said, smiling.  
  
"Clarice, please," Hannibal said. She was finally carrying out her threat to play games with him and he wasn't happy about it.  
  
"You have to tell me what you want, otherwise I'll never know."  
  
"Clarice . . ."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Just tell me."  
  
"Tell you what?"  
  
"How you feel."  
  
"Feel about what?'  
  
"Me."  
  
"What about you?" Hannibal sighed and put his head in his hands.  
  
"Clarice, this has gone beyond games. You're purposely annoying me, and it's working."  
  
"That's what you do to me when you play games with me. I'm glad you finally know what it feels like," Clarice responded, still smiling.  
  
"Fine. I'm sorry."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Now will you tell me?"  
  
"Tell you what?" Hannibal nearly screamed in frustration.  
  
"Do you want me to spell it out for you? Fine. I'm in love with you,, Clarice. All I want to know is if you also love me." Clarice looked slightly taken back at his bluntness, but started smiling again, the blush also back.  
  
"For once, Hannibal Lecter actually said what he was feeling. This must be a new record." Hannibal started at Clarice, eyes narrowed.  
  
"Clarice, I've wanted to tell you that since we first met. Please don't draw it out any longer."  
  
"Fine. Yes, I suppose you could say that I love you, but I don't think that we can be together," Clarice said, her smile changing from happy to sad. Hannibal sighed.  
  
"I think that if we gave it a chance, it might."  
  
"No, it really wont. Hannibal, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Tears started to well up in Clarice's eyes and she quickly wiped them away. She leaned forward, kissed Hannibal quickly on the lips and left, knowing that she was breaking both of their hearts.  
  
"Clarice, don't go," Hannibal said. She turned around and looked at him sadly.  
  
"I told you that if we continued to communicate that one of us was going to get heartbroken. I was wrong; we both did. I'm sorry," she said, the last part a whisper and left, closing the door quietly behind her. 


	19. The End

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.  
  
A/N: Wow. This is the last chapter. I'm so proud! *hugs self* This is the first story that I'll have finished. Cool, huh? After this I'm probably going to go back to Winter Wonders and then That's My Girl and then perhaps a new story? Or maybe I'll watch Titanic again and work on Titanic. Whatever the case, this is the last chapter of You've Got Mail! and Winter Wonders comes next.  
  
And yes, I know the format is boring but too bad.  
  
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Clarice sat in her car staring at the steering wheel willing the tears not to come and praying that Hannibal wouldn't come out. After a couple of minutes she got herself together enough to drive and so she did. Halfway home on the highway, she felt the tears start to fall and she drove quickly over to the side and turned the car off. She let her head fall onto her arms which were resting on the wheel and began to cry for really. For about five minutes she sat there, sobs racking her body until she stopped crying. Instead she snivelled. Clarice was appalled with herself. She of all people did not snivel. But here she was, snivelling. She decided that she could drive home and pulled back onto the highway and quickly drove the rest of the way home.  
  
As soon as Clarice was home, she heated up some apple cider and turned the TV on. She flipped through the channels but couldn't find anything so she snapped it off and picked up the closest book which happened to be Desperation by Stephen King. Exactly, she thought and put it down again. Trying to do anything aside from think about Hannibal she walked over to her computer and checked her mail. There were three things sitting in her inbox. The first was from Jack Crawford and so she opened it. All it was was reminding her that she had a meeting tomorrow with him. She closed the window and deleted the message. The second was from Ardelia asking if she wanted to get together on Friday. Clarice quickly checked her calendar and saw that she was free so she emailed Delia back telling her that she'd love to. The last message was just an add so she deleted that and sat back at her computer the tears coming back to her eyes. She got up and walked away from her computer, knowing that it would only remind her of him. As Clarice looked around, she realised that practically everything in her house did, from her cell phone lying on her dresser to the skin cream in her bathroom. She decided that she would call Delia to see if she wanted to do anything. The phone rang. Clarice picked up, knowing that it was him and that it wasn't at the same time.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey, Clarice. Did you get my email?" It was Delia. Of course. She couldn't help be a little disappointed.  
  
"Oh, hey Delia. Yeah I did. I emailed you back, but Friday's fine," Clarice answered.  
  
"Are you ok?" Delia asked concerned.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," answered Clarice trying to put an upbeat in her voice instead of the wetness that accompanied tears.  
  
"You don't sound like it."  
  
"Well, I am," Clarice snapped. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I can't tell you. I'm really sorry," Clarice said, hoping her friend would understand.  
  
Delia sighed. "Let me guess. It has something to do with Doctor Lecter."  
  
"No, of course not. That'd get me arrested," Clarice lied, not surprised at all that Delia thought that it was Hannibal. Ever since Chesapeake, the entire FBI thought that she was in love with him. Clarice had done everything she could to debunk those rumours but it didn't work.  
  
"That's why you can't tell me. Listen, I promise I won't tell anyone. I'm going to come over, we can talk about it at your house," Delia said and hung up. Clarice sighed and put the phone back into its cradle. A few minutes later, Delia walked into the living room where Clarice was sitting. She had given her the key ages ago when Delia had been taking care of her cat. Her cat had died about five years ago, but Delia still had the key.  
  
"What happened Clarice?" she said sitting down next to her friend.  
  
"I can't tell you," Clarice repeated.  
  
"I swear I won't tell anyone," Delia said. Clarice looked over at her.  
  
"You're in the FBI. It'd get me arrested."  
  
"You need to tell someone and I'm better than anyone else I can think of."  
  
Clarice sighed. "You aren't going to leave me alone, are you?"  
  
"No."  
  
She sighed again. "Fine." Clarice told Delia the story, beginning with the first email and ending with her answering the phone. She included all the gory details such as her sitting in the car snivelling but left out where Hannibal was. "And now," she finished up, "I made the worst mistake of my life and there's no way I can change it."  
  
Delia looked at her friend in amazement. "This has been going on for how long?"  
  
"About a month."  
  
"And you never told anyone?"  
  
Clarice shook her head.  
  
"You're better at keeping secrets than I thought. And stop worrying, I'm not going to tell anyone. I do have one question, however."  
  
Clarice cocked her eyebrow.  
  
"Why can't you take it back?"  
  
Clarice opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. Why couldn't she take it back? Clarice glanced at her watch and realised that if she left now, Hannibal might still be there. "Um, Delia? I have to go somewhere . . ."  
  
Delia laughed. "Ok. I'll go, in case you bring home any guests that I'm not supposed to know about. Call me later ok?" Clarice nodded and got up from the couch. She ran over to where she had thrown down her jacket and quickly put it on while she was running to her car. Clarice jumped in and drove as fast as she could to the cabin. Once she was there she looked around for him car but didn't see it. Her heart fell. She got out of the car slowly and walked over to the door of the cabin. Not surprisingly, it was locked. She stepped back and kicked right below the handle. It opened, like she knew it would. Clarice walked into the cabin, feeling very awkward at having to break into a friend's house, but figured that he had done it to her, so she had a few free times without feeling guilty. She looked around and smiled. Clarice knew that he was still there. To the normal eye, it wouldn't look like it, but Clarice was used to looking to see if people were there. Or maybe it's just because that a bookcase wouldn't normally have a book on psychology. At any rate, she knew that he would be returning so she sat down on the couch to wait.  
  
Two Hours Later  
  
Dr. Hannibal Lecter drove into the little grove in front of his cabin and stared in surprise. The black Jaguar he had bought for Clarice was sitting where he usually parked. He parked his car where it was sitting now and got out. He walked over to the car and made sure that Clarice wasn't in it. She wasn't, of course. He guessed that she had just brought it back because she didn't want it, but then realized that she couldn't do it without a friend. He stopped. Hannibal realized that she might be mad enough at him to involve the police. He didn't think it was likely, but you never know. He took out his harpy and slowly approached the door. It was open about a crack and so he peeked in. Instead of the police/ FBI brigade he had expected, he saw Clarice lying down on the couch, apparently asleep. He wondered if it was a trap and decided it wasn't. He put the harpy back, but kept his hand on it and walked into the cabin. Glancing around, he confirmed that there weren't any police or anything like that. Hannibal walked over to Clarice and squatted down next to her, reluctant to wake her up; she looked so peaceful lying there. Instead, he gently placed a strand of hair that had been in her face behind her ear. She stirred slightly and woke up, her eyelids flickering.  
  
"Hannibal?" Clarice said softly as if she wasn't sure he was really there.  
  
Hannibal smiled. "Hello, Clarice. Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Yes, thank you. I can't believe I fell asleep, though," she muttered, closing her eyes for a second and then opening them again.  
  
"I'm here, if that's why you're blinking," he said, still smiling.  
  
Clarice smiled back. "I knew you were coming, but somehow I knew that you weren't . . ." She shook her head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. "Listen, Hannibal, I-" before Clarice got a chance to finish, Hannibal placed his fingers over her lips.  
  
"I know," he said and replaced his fingers with his mouth. Clarice closed her eyes and enjoyed the kiss, wishing it would never end. Eventually they broke apart, if for nothing than lack of air.  
  
"I'm sorry," Clarice said and leaned her head onto Hannibal's shoulder.  
  
"It's ok," Hannibal whispered back. He gently lifted Clarice's head up and sat down on the couch, the latter being much more comfortable. He took Clarice's hands in his and looked into her eyes. "Clarice, will you marry me?"  
  
Clarice blushed and looked down, staring at Hannibal's hands rather than his face. She contemplated her answer for a couple of milliseconds and looked back up and Hannibal. "Yes," she said and kisses him.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~  
  
Yay! I finished my first fic! *hugs self* I'm so proud! *does a little victory dance*  
  
So, do you like it? And please don't ask me to write more. That's the end, and that's that. Ta ta,  
  
-Nicky 


End file.
